Judith Wood Character Analysis

“Why, girls! What on earth—?” Rachel Wood had come back unnoticed, and she stood now staring at her daughter in the peacock blue gown with something, half fear and half hunger in her eyes.”

“You certainly made an impression on William Ashby,” Judith ventured presently.

There was no point in denying it. “Perhaps because I was someone new,” said Kit.

“Perhaps. You aren’t exactly pretty, you know. But naturally William would be impressed by a dress like that.”

As they came out from the shelter of the trees and the Great Meadows stretched before them, Kit caught her breath. She had not expected anything like this. From that first moment, in a way she could never explain, the Meadows claimed her and made her their own. As far as she could see they stretched on either side, a great level sea of green, broken here and there by a solitary graceful elm. Was it the fields of sugar cane they brought to mind, or the endless reach of the ocean to meet the sky? Or was it simply the sense of freedom and space and light that spoke to her of home?

“[…] She’s been there as long as I can remember.”

“All alone?”

“With her cats. There’s always a cat or so around. People say she’s a witch.”

“Do you believe in witches, Judith?”

“Maybe not,” said Judith doubtfully. “All the same, it gives me a creepy feeling to look at her. She’s queer, that’s certain, and she never comes to Meeting. I’d just rather not get any closer.”

Kit looked back at the gray figure bent over a kettle, stirring something with a long stick. Her spine prickled. It might be only soap, of course […] But that lonely figure in the ragged flapping shawl—it was easy enough to imagine any sort of mysterious brew in that pot!

Sometimes Kit wanted to stop her ears. Would she have to hear the price of every nail that went into those board, and every single nail the finest that money could buy? […]

Judith, however took a lively interest in such details. She had a flair for line and form and a definite mind of her own, and it was plain, to Kit at least, that as William planned his house Judith was comparing it, timber for timber, with the house she dreamed for herself. Her purpose was only too apparent as she made adroit attempts to draw John Holbrook into the discussion.

“I think you should have one of those new roofs, William,” she said now. […] “I think they look so distinguished, don’t you, John?”

Mercy laughed at John’s bewilderment. “I don’t believe John even notices there’s a roof over his head,” she teased gently.

“Why, girls! What on earth—?” Rachel Wood had come back unnoticed, and she stood now staring at her daughter in the peacock blue gown with something, half fear and half hunger in her eyes.”

“You certainly made an impression on William Ashby,” Judith ventured presently.

There was no point in denying it. “Perhaps because I was someone new,” said Kit.

“Perhaps. You aren’t exactly pretty, you know. But naturally William would be impressed by a dress like that.”

As they came out from the shelter of the trees and the Great Meadows stretched before them, Kit caught her breath. She had not expected anything like this. From that first moment, in a way she could never explain, the Meadows claimed her and made her their own. As far as she could see they stretched on either side, a great level sea of green, broken here and there by a solitary graceful elm. Was it the fields of sugar cane they brought to mind, or the endless reach of the ocean to meet the sky? Or was it simply the sense of freedom and space and light that spoke to her of home?

“[…] She’s been there as long as I can remember.”

“All alone?”

“With her cats. There’s always a cat or so around. People say she’s a witch.”

“Do you believe in witches, Judith?”

“Maybe not,” said Judith doubtfully. “All the same, it gives me a creepy feeling to look at her. She’s queer, that’s certain, and she never comes to Meeting. I’d just rather not get any closer.”

Kit looked back at the gray figure bent over a kettle, stirring something with a long stick. Her spine prickled. It might be only soap, of course […] But that lonely figure in the ragged flapping shawl—it was easy enough to imagine any sort of mysterious brew in that pot!

Sometimes Kit wanted to stop her ears. Would she have to hear the price of every nail that went into those board, and every single nail the finest that money could buy? […]

Judith, however took a lively interest in such details. She had a flair for line and form and a definite mind of her own, and it was plain, to Kit at least, that as William planned his house Judith was comparing it, timber for timber, with the house she dreamed for herself. Her purpose was only too apparent as she made adroit attempts to draw John Holbrook into the discussion.

“I think you should have one of those new roofs, William,” she said now. […] “I think they look so distinguished, don’t you, John?”

Mercy laughed at John’s bewilderment. “I don’t believe John even notices there’s a roof over his head,” she teased gently.